


Singularity (Part 2)

by QuietDarkness



Series: Simplicity and Complexity (Harrisco) [57]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 06:02:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16634336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietDarkness/pseuds/QuietDarkness
Summary: Harry gives Maggie some much needed advice as the team preps to save Cisco.Ramon learns a startling truth from Coster.Harry makes his way to Cisco, but nothing is meant to be simple...'Opposites don't just attract. They catch fire and burn the entire city down.'(Part 56)





	Singularity (Part 2)

**Author's Note:**

> (I'd really love to know what you all think so far. And I'm opening up the 'floor' for reader ideas! Is there something you'd like me to add? Let me know! -QD)

_'The thing under my bed waiting to grab my ankle isn't real. I know that. And I also know that if I'm careful to keep my foot under the covers, it will never be able to grab my ankle...'_

* * *

'Oh, I'm not like the Flash at all...'

“Some would say, I'm the Reverse.”

Ramon couldn't stop wringing his hands, watching what was playing out before him. Every shadow, every touch of light, every image before him was so horrifically familiar and painful. Goodness knows he'd had nightmares about this moment, thought on it far too often after he'd vibed it when the timeline changed. But seeing it like this? It was too... real. So much different than a vibe or a dream. It was actually happening, right in front of him... _to_ him. Past him. Before him. Whatever him.

And there was nothing he could do to stop it. 

Shit, looking at himself... he seemed so young. So naïve. Damn, he really had been. And Doctor Wells... _Thawne_... he could see it now where he hadn't been able to before. Everything familiar was there, everything he'd looked up to and cared about and strove to be just like... but mingled with something dark and terrible, something cold. _Right there in his eyes._

“You're incredibly clever, Cisco.” He said, a smug expression on his face, a face he knew so well. “I've always said so.” Thawne slipped his hands into his pockets, completely at ease in a way that made Ramon want to strangle him. But like with each scenario, each memory, each well-thought out display Coster had him experience, all Ramon could do was watch helplessly. 

“You're him. The Reverse Flash.” His younger self said softly. He could see the strain on his features. The turmoil passing through his stare. In that moment, everything he'd known had come apart at the seams. And there was no repairing it. Not then. And sure as hell not now.

“You and I have never truly been properly introduced.” He replied, still looking smug, stepping slightly forward. “I... am Eobard Thawne.” He tilted his head a little, meeting the younger Cisco's gaze without reservation. It made Ramon wonder... in that moment, did Thawne care even a little that he was going to take Cisco's life? Of course, Ramon knew the answer to that. But... a part of him would always wonder.

The conversation between them carried on, and the younger version of himself began to unravel. Truths he'd never wanted to know came to light, questions he never thought he'd ask spilled out of his mouth as he was circled by his mentor... by a monster.

“I can help you...” Cisco's pained voice fell. Tears stained the corners of his eyes, his lips trembled. In that moment, he was a shell of himself. He was on the edge of death, and he knew it. He was going to die by the hand of the one person in the world he thought of as a father...

“You're smart, Cisco.” Thawne lifted his hand, vibrating it far too fast for comfort. Ramon knew what was coming, he knew how this scenario ended. But the fear tasted brand new, the helplessness of that moment, the pure heartbreak... it was nearly too much. “But you're not that smart.” Cisco's face fell, along with his tears. “Do you know how hard it has been to keep all of this from you; especially from you? Because the truth is... I've grown quite fond of you.” Thawne kept going. 

And Ramon had to squeeze his eyes shut... he had to raise his hands to his ears and turn away. He didn't want to hear this, didn't want to view this train wreck. It was too much. He didn't want to witness his own death again and again and again in his nightmares. He didn't want to see Thawne's cold stare when he closed his eyes. But Ramon knew all too well what was playing out behind his back. “In many ways, you have shown me what it's like to have a son.”

It was just a breath of a moment, really. So fast. Too fast. And Thawne had his heart. Literally. Crushed it out of being. “Forgive me... But to me you've been dead for centuries...”

Ramon knew it was over when Thawne passed him. When the air around him seemed far too cold and quiet. He lowered his hands, stood there trembling in the silence for, fuck... how many breaths? Then opened his eyes. Slowly, he turned. And all he could do was stare at the dead body of his younger self cooling quietly on the floor. 

“I have to say, just when I think I've got you pegged,” Coster said, stepping up beside him and shaking his head, crossing his arms over his chest, “You seem to throw me a new twist in your saga.” He glanced at Ramon thoughtfully for a moment, then nudged him with his elbow. Ramon grit his teeth, closing his eyes for a split second. “Answer a question for me, Cisco... how is it...” He began, moving toward the body on the floor, “After all this,” he uncrossed his arms and knelt down, motioning with one hand to the wide open but dead eyes of his younger self, “You could possibly be with Harry?”

For the briefest moment, all Cisco could do was stare. Because the absurdity of the question made him pause. But then he was laughing. It burst out of him like an explosion he had no control of, till he was clutching his chest with one hand and nearly bent over with it. It wasn't till Coster stood that he managed to compose himself, shaking his head with a tired smile, wiping at one eye. “Oh, man... you... you're really dense, you know that?” Ramon said, dropping his arms. “Thawne and Harry? They're nothing alike.” Coster looked partially amused, at least. But then he slipped his hands in his pockets and narrowed his gaze.

“Same face, same voice, same... well, everything.” He shrugged. “From what I could see.”

“Then you weren't really looking, were you.” Ramon moved then, pacing toward Coster and his dead younger self. “Because if you had been, you'd have seen that,” he motioned toward the empty doorway, “That monster is nothing like Harry. And if you were anything like me, you'd have felt it, too.” He tilted his head, watching the briefest flash of confusion in Coster's eyes. “Alright, I'll lay it out for you. Yeah, sure... their faces might be similar, but even just now I could see the coldness in Thawne's eyes, the lack of anything close to a human heart. There was no gentleness in him. No compassion. Everything before this moment,” He motioned to the body on the floor, “Was an act, nothing was real. Even the face he wore wasn't his own. It belonged to a man he murdered. This? My murder? That was the first time he was ever close to being real. And what he really was... was a monster.”

“And you truly think your husband isn't a monster? You know what he's done, what he's capable of doing. You've seen it for yourself, experienced and vibed his sordid history. And you know the consequences of his actions on his own Earth.” Coster took in a breath and let it out easily. “How does that saying go?” He smirked a little, a thing Ramon was really beginning to hate seeing. “'One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness?'”

Ramon didn't miss a beat. “'Though it seems enough to condemn him...' are we really quoting Pirates of the Caribbean right now?” He furrowed his brows, though felt half amused at the prospect. Then he waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind. You don't get it. How could you?” He chuckled, crossing his arms. “Harry... he's far from being a monster. He might dispute that from time to time. But he's more than made up for the wrong he's done in life. He's more than suffered his fair share. And if there was ever a doubt in my mind that he was anything but good, you really think I'd be with him?” Ramon demanded. Coster chuckled then, pacing away, hands returning to his pockets as he moved toward the doorway. “The only monster I see these days is you.” Ramon called after him firmly, then, believing every single word. 

To that, Coster stopped completely. And for a moment, Ramon felt a familiar fear. One like his younger self had felt, just before Thawne had killed him. He swallowed it down, refusing to give into the Fallen Watcher. Slowly, Coster turned. 

“A monster can be a great many things, Cisco Ramon.” He raised his chin slightly. “For your sake, you best hope your Harrison Wells is at least half the monster I am. Because the only real way to defeat a monster...” he motioned to the dead Cisco on the floor, “Is to be one.” 

And then he snapped his fingers. The sound echoed around him impossibly loud, bouncing off every wall, digging into his ears in painful bursts, and the shadows swarmed in around him, the darkness swallowing everything whole so quickly that Ramon had no time to react beyond a strangled yell and the sudden sensation of falling.

Falling, falling, falling... down into darkness, into nothing, lost yet again in another void, Coster's words violently rampaging through his mind...

* * *

_'Other people are going to find healing in your wounds. Your greatest life messages and your most effective ministry will come out of your deepest hurts...'_

* * *

The preparation was happening without him. There was nothing he could do at this point. Hope and Axiom, which was a strange duo to think on, would be handling all the metaphysical aspects of the venture. Snow would be monitoring both him and Cisco. Jesse would be his grounding point, apparently, since they shared a blood line. Though why that was important was still a mystery to him. Most of this was one giant confusing thing that, quite honestly, he'd pretty much given up on trying to figure out. He felt like he was just along for the ride until the big show, which was his soul (or whatever one called it) merging into Cisco, to find him, to connect with him, to bring him back out of whatever void it was Coster had him caged in. 

All of which sounded horrifically bogus. 

But he'd made a promise, a sort of vow to Ramon and everyone around them. To have faith.

In fact, he was actively faithing about. It was the strangest he'd ever felt in his life because he felt equal parts useless and motivated. And it was driving him fucking nuts. Not once had it occurred to him that it might be worse for someone else just then... until he found Maggie in a darkened hall that no one but him used. He hadn't been looking for her. In fact, he'd been trying to find the dark himself. To be alone. To center himself for a moment among the shadows he was steadily learning to be a part of. But what he'd found instead was his daughter, sitting on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest with her face buried in her arms. 

The quiet allowed him to catch her quaking, the soft whimpers of her crying meeting his ears painfully. It tore a sigh from his throat, and he stepped toward her. If she heard him, she didn't react. Not even when he leaned against the wall and sat beside her, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankle. She inhaled after a moment, lifting her head and wiping her cheeks tiredly. Even in the dark, which wasn't really 'dark' to him anymore, he could see the wetness in her hazel eyes and the glistening on her cheeks. “He's going to be alright, Maggie.” He said then, offering her the only words he could think of that might help. “I'm going to get him back.” 

She looked up at him, her gaze finding his illuminated one easily. “It's not that.” Her voice was so terribly quiet. “I know you will.” He furrowed his brows, shifting lightly to look at her a little straighter on. 

“Then what is it?” He asked kindly, reaching up and smoothing a thumb over her wet cheek. She closed her eyes a moment, a deep welled sigh slipping past her lips. 

“I'm just... I'm not...” She made a face of frustration, opening her eyes and reaching up, taking his hand in hers and pulling it into her lap, enfolded in both of of her hands now. “I'm useless.” Harry blinked, then glanced away, out into the dark. He let his head relax against the wall, curling his fingers into her palm. She seemed to lean into him. And for awhile, the quiet settled back in around them until he spoke again.

“Tess died when Jesse was two years old.” He said, feeling an instant tension beside him. He just let himself relax a little more, hoping she'd do the same. “Just after her birthday, actually.” He made a slight, sad smile. “I remember staring at the wall. Just sitting there... the whole world moving around me. Police and her family and more. Just... a blur of faces and voices I can't even recall now. Before that moment, I'd never felt so numb.” He pulled her hands into his own lap, then. “There was nothing beyond what Jesse and I had lost. There was no more of the future we'd planned, no more of the dreams we'd intended to follow. There was simply nothing. I had become useless and pathless with a little girl who suddenly depended entirely on no one but me. And I was stuck in that mindset for days.”

He looked at Maggie. She was watching him thoughtfully, soft confusion on her young features. “Then one night, Jesse woke up screaming. Nothing I did seemed to help. She wanted her mother.” He smiled sadly, “Rightly so. I was a pale substitute, after all.” He watched as Maggie's brows furrowed and continued before she could interject. “We both ended up on her bedroom floor, tangled up in one of her mother's old sweaters, soaked in both of our tears. We'd cried ourselves to sleep.” He chuckled softly, and used his free hand to wipe the rest of the wetness from her cheeks as she continued to listen. 

“When I woke up the next morning, it was to Jesse staring at me, smiling, her little hand gripping my shirt. And I realized something instantly.” He smiled, the warmth of that moment coming back to him. “It was okay to be useless when the occasion called for it. Right then, I didn't need to be anything but useless. I couldn't bring Tess back. I couldn't fix what had become of our life. I couldn't give Jesse her mother. But I could be useless for awhile. I could grieve, and just be there for Jesse. Even if I wasn't doing anything else I should have been able to do, I could at least do that. And then, eventually,” he shrugged, dropping his hand to his lap, “Then I'd be useful again.”

Maggie looked away, shook her head, and closed her eyes as her face crumpled anew. Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into himself, hugging his other arm around her. She held onto him, clinging, crying lightly. “It's okay to be useless, Maggie. You don't have to save the day all the time. You don't have to be the hero. Today, all you have to be is a teenage girl whose dads love her endlessly, and who need her to be here when we get back.” He rested his cheek against the top of her head. “As long as you can do that... it might not be heroing about, it might make you feel useless... but it's everything to Cisco. And it's everything to me.” His words only made her cry harder. His own eyes grew wet, and he took in a deep breath, pulling the shadows in around them.

The air grew comfortable because of that, warm in a way. Like sitting beside a fireplace on a cold day. Or when Axiom splayed out on top of someone's lap like a heating pad with limbs. The shadows twirled around them in a strange dance, one he knew well. One he hadn't shown anyone but Cisco. He imagined spirals like dust devils or tiny tornadoes, he imagined a subtle snowfall. And the shadows emulated everything he imagined. Eventually, Maggie grew soft and quiet in his hold, just watching the shadows play out what he wanted to see. “It's so... pretty.” She said, sounding confused.

“You seem surprised.” He lightened his hold a little, glancing at her face. She smiled. 

“I guess I never thought shadows could be so graceful looking. Or that that would be a sentence someone would say out loud.” She smirked, meeting his gaze. “Thanks, Dad.” She said then, “For... ya know.” She then rested her head back against him. And he just smiled, relaxing his head back against the wall. For awhile, he continued letting the shadows put on a show for Maggie. He let himself sit there and be useless right along with her. And honestly, it made him feel far better than he had since Cisco had ended up in the coma. Sometimes, doing nothing was the best thing anyone could do.

 _'Harry, we're ready for you.'_ Snow's voice came over the intercom. Both he and Maggie stiffened, and the shadows instantly recoiled at their reaction, melting back into the darkness as though they hadn't just been nearly sentient, dancing things. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, standing and holding a hand out for Maggie to take. She glanced at it a moment, then grabbed onto him as he hoisted her to her feet. 

“You ready?” She asked him. He glanced toward the direction of the Cortex and the medlab. 

“I have no idea.” He answered honestly. He was about to venture into completely unknown territory. _Was_ he ready for that? She squeezed his hand.

“I love you, Dad. You've got this, okay?” She smiled warmly at him. “So go save him already.” She let him go and nudged him forward. He narrowed his eyes on her and gave her a wry smile.

“Punk.” Harry said, then motioned for Maggie to follow. And without another word spoken between them, they walked side by side toward the unknown.

* * *

_'I feel like a part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything. Maybe we're from the same star...'_

* * *

He remembered this conversation. And all the events that had led up to it. But he was seeing it much differently now. Because he knew all the details by heart. And he knew Harry. Knew all the reasons _why_ this particular moment had happened. But he hadn't known it then... and watching the torment play out on Harry's face; the guilt, the regret... it was more than enough. Too much.

“I think maybe you were right. I felt slower tonight. You know, not by much, but enough.” Barry's worried words carried heavy weight in the air as he spoke to the younger Cisco. But Ramon wasn't watching either one of them. He was standing directly in front of Harry, who was fiddling with the nitrous grenades. His expressions were going unnoticed by everyone... but he could see them now. And it was... painful. “Do you think there's something wrong with the suit, maybe?”

“It's unlikely.” Harry interjected quickly, catching both Cisco and Barry's attention. It was amazing, really, how fast he could cover his emotions. But Ramon knew him now. Really knew him. And he could still see the regret in his eyes. 

“The readings from the suit are normal, you know I take care of that thing.” Cisco added.

“Yeah, what? Am I sick?” Barry asked, his face yielding to his worry. Unlike Harry, he didn't bother to hide what he was feeling. 

“I don't know, dude. Feel any different?”

“No, not really. I mean... I know that I'm slower in the moment but I can't tell by how much.”

“Two percent.” Caitlin broke in, stepping toward them with tablet in hand. Ramon watched Harry's expression falter again. “Tests on the components in your blood show the speed force at a one hundred percent for the last sixty days until today, it dropped to 98.”

“Zoom stole Jay's speed. Do you think maybe, during your fight with Zoom, yours might have diminished?” Cisco surmised. It had been a logical conclusion. Spitballing, really. But all that was background static to Ramon now. Seeing this situation through wiser eyes was... enlightening, and heartbreaking. Because he was able to watch the torture Harry was putting himself through. He knew all the reasons why Harry had done what he'd done. All the ways Zoom had tortured him. All the things Zoom had done to both Harry and Jesse. Getting his daughter back... it had been all Harry was trying to do. It didn't excuse it, of course. Not then, and Harry would certainly say not now. But they'd all forgiven him. They'd all moved on from this. So... why was Coster showing him this? Why drudge up Harry's old hurt?

As the conversation carried on to Iris being hurt and Barry not wanting to lose anyone else, Ramon braced himself for what he knew was coming. He watched the guilt bleed into determination on Harry's face as he declared, “You won't.” And stood up, facing them tall and brave like he did every challenge. But they weren't the challenge. Not really. His own failings were. Ramon knew that now. “I did it.” 

Everything after that happened much faster than Ramon remembered. Harry's admission, Joe's anger. And Harry just... let it all happen. He could have fought back or even rallied for himself. But he didn't bother. Of course, Ramon understood why now. All he could do was watch as Joe threw him into a cell in the pipeline. And Harry... he just... laid there. Not surprised. And completely... exhausted. That was all he could think of as he stared at him now. 

“Why'd you all forgive him so quickly after this?” Coster asked then, appearing beside Ramon annoyingly quiet. He didn't even spare the tall Asian man a glance, just crossed his arms and sighed.

“I doubt you'd understand.” He replied, “But since you have yet to let anything go...” he took in a deep breath and paced away, shrugging a shoulder, “He didn't do anything that any of us wouldn't have done. Nothing I didn't really do. He just... did it a different way.” He glanced back at Coster. “We all make mistakes. It's part of being human. He makes up for his past every day, and then some.” Coster narrowed his eyes on Ramon, an actual thoughtful expression on his typically amused features. 

“You were already in love with him then, weren't you.” He stated more than asked. Ramon paused, glancing at the now closed door of the cell. Thinking. 

“I think... I didn't know how to be, yet.” He answered honestly. “I wanted to be.” He looked back at Coster and let his arms fall. “I wasn't exactly the poster child for knowing what to do with my own emotions.” He frowned a little. “Why are we talking about this?” Coster went instantly back to being amused.

“Perpetually trying to understand.” He replied. And Ramon nearly had an aneurysm. 

“Alright, I call bullshit.” He growled, moving toward him and waving a hand in his direction. “Understand what?! You either drag me through my own worst memories, or memories of Harry's setbacks, or really crazy scenarios of my greatest dreams or wishes, and all you seem to get out of it is amusement at my expense.” He got right up into Coster's face, staring hard. “What gives? I think I've ran enough of this race to earn a few answers.” Coster studied him, then nodded. Just once.

“Very well.” He snapped his fingers. And just like that, everything shifted so ridiculously fast that Ramon almost toppled over. It was Coster's hand on his shoulder that steadied him. He shrugged it off when he got his bearings, realizing they were standing in just a wide, empty white room with no windows and no doors, light seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere, and somehow dim enough not to hurt the eyes. The air was crisp, like Autumn. And though Ramon knew none of this was real, he couldn't help but shiver lightly as he stepped aside, turning to take in his confusingly disturbing surroundings. “You and Harrison Wells should not exist.” Coster said plainly. “Individually, yes. Absolutely. But together? Not at all. And I have a theory. I'm trying to put the pieces together. Trying to... figure out the reasons.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Ramon demanded turning to face him. Coster slipped his hands into his pockets quietly. 

“You're soulmates.”

“Yeah, and?” Ramon responded. This wasn't news to him. Nor was it anything that should matter to Coster... right?

“You shouldn't be. Soulmates are two halves of one whole. Complementing one another. Strengthening each other. They are the definition of equals. And always, without fail,” he motioned at him with one finger, “From the same universe.” Ramon shook his head a little, dubiously furrowing his brows.

“That can't be right. Harry's not-”

“From your universe. Correct.” He clasped his hands behind him. “The Multiverse, though chaotic and unending and full of things that simply cannot be quantified by most minds, still has rules that can never be broken. And the number one concrete rule of soulmates is this... two become as one because their atoms were near one another when their universe was created. Over time, the same atoms return to each other. That is how soulmates are created. So... Francisco Ramon... explain to me, then, how it is possible that two individuals from entirely different universes with completely different atoms -entirely different souls- become verified, strong and unwavering soulmates?”

All he could do was turn away, shaking his head, a hand coming to the back of his neck and rubbing as he tried to make sense of what Coster was saying. Because for all he knew, Coster was speaking total bullshit. But... there was something about it all that seemed correct, an intense buzzing in his brain, an instinct or intuition that was painfully stabbing at his mind and telling him the words were true. “You're saying... you're saying that Harry and I...”

“Were never supposed to be together.” Coster said easily, making Ramon look at his terrible smile. “Someone or something powerful enough to literally rearrange the cosmos made it possible, altering the laws of the Multiverse and bringing you two together for some unknown purpose. Maybe because you're both Gaia-borne, which is rare enough. Or maybe just because they could. I don't know. But either way, I'm curious.”

“No...” Cisco whispered, then faced Coster, “No.” His voice came out more firmly. “You're saying that everything we feel for each other, everything we've been through and have and... and are to each other, that none of that is supposed to be real?”

“No,” Coster said, still smiling. Fuck, Ramon hated that smile. “I'm saying that none of that _is_ real. It's all the result of some powerful something or someone's interference. Without that?” He shrugged, “The two of you would probably have been nothing more than friends. Maybe even that would have been pushing it.”

Ramon shook his head, his heart speeding up, his chest feeling like it was being crushed and exploding at the same time. Because that couldn't be true. It couldn't be right. He loved Harry and Harry loved him and there was nothing more real or true or-

“You can fight the truth of it all you want, Cisco. But now that it's been explained to you, now that it's been spelled out, you have to admit it makes sense. Your being Gaia-borne allows you to see the truth of my words. Feel the truth of it, even. Your 'love' for each other?” Coster made finger quotes around the word, “It isn't natural.”

And just like that, Cisco felt something inside of him snap. Break. Even die a little. He couldn't stop the sound that escaped his throat, or the way his knees gave out on him, or the tears that suddenly welled up in his eyes.

“There it is.” Coster grinned.

“Why?” He choked out, looking up at Coster, “Why would you... why would you tell me all this?” If Coster hadn't said anything, he'd never have known. He'd never have felt this... never have understood. Coster moved toward him, crouching, staring him in the eyes. And the look... it was so cold. Evil would never be more accurate a description.

“Because... I want Harry to suffer. Call me petty. And I want to draw out whomever did this,” he looked Cisco up and down, “To the two of you. Anyone or anything that powerful? That's definitely a meeting I want to have.” Cisco glared through his tears.

“Fuck you, Coster.” He hissed. Coster just nodded. No smile. No need for it.

“I'd say I was sorry. But I don't feel like lying today.” He stood up then, letting out a deep sigh. “You know the truth now. Let's see what happens with it.” And he snapped his fingers. 

Just like that, there was nothing but darkness around Cisco. Just a terrible quiet, the suffocating heartache in his chest, and the far too real knowledge that the last several years of his life with Harry were manufactured by some unseen hand. “Harry...” he whispered. And he doubted. For the first time, he really, truly doubted that Harry would hear him. And that hurt more than anything else...

* * *

_'No one really knows why they are alive until they know what they'd die for...'_

* * *

He could hear everyone around him. A strange sort of unease had settled into the room, a thick and palpable thing he could have run his hands through if he'd tried. But he was supposed to be relaxing. Breathing. Concentrating on nothing and no one but Ramon. He was laying side by side with him. Two gurneys pushed against each other, his hand entwined with Cisco's, monitors hooked up to each of them. The lights were off, there was a soft whirring from a white noise machine which Hope said would help, and Axiom was laying heavily across both his and Ramon's legs. 

“I'm going to inject the sedative now.” Snow's voice beside him seemed strange in the silence, but he just took in a deep breath and let it out. He could feel Jesse's hand in his hair, fingers carding soothingly in repetitive motions. He tightened his grip on Ramon's palm a little more as the tingling sensation went through the IV tube into his vein. 

_Breathe easy._ Axiom's voice said, though if it was just him or everyone hearing it, he couldn't say. _Concentrate on energy._ He knew he was talking about Hope's energy. It was everywhere. She was somewhere near the foot of the bed. Doing something. She'd been standing there with her hands clasped and eyes closed since he'd laid down. Axiom had laid on top of them with a hard stare and a strange thrumming heat emanating from his body shortly after that. 

“Purple...” he mumbled, feeling everything in his body take on a terrible fuzziness, muscles growing heavy, body relaxing into the gurney, the hold he had on Cisco's hand loosening against his will. “Ramon.” He stated in a whisper. And then he was just asleep... 

No, not asleep. This was something else. Something... not quite right. 

Everything was darkness. But not the darkness he'd come to know and trust. There weren't shadows here, nothing he could feel or control. Just cold and empty and it stretched on forever. He felt formless, his arms and legs gone, his body impossibly light. If he could have spoken or yelled or even breathed, he wasn't sure how. The stirrings of panic began to creep in on his consciousness, or was this unconsciousness? 

But there, in the distance... was that the distance? A cloud, shifting and barely holding any form trembled and stirred. It looked warm, swirling in lavender and lilac and... purple. It was purple. Axiom! Just thinking the name seemed to draw him toward the cloud, or the cloud toward him. He really couldn't tell. It was all too much black to make sense of movement. But the purple was near him in a few heartbeats, then completely around him. And it felt beyond familiar. 

'Think on Cisco Ramon. Of how he feels, how he thinks, how he looks. Think of his heart, his spirit, his soul. Think of your bond, your connection. Hold on to it. Cling to it.' It was a thousand voices, or one that sounded like a thousand, and somehow very distinctly Axiom without sounding like the Axiom he remembered. 

He didn't waste time trying to contemplate it. Didn't dare question the oddity of this whole situation, he just did what he was told. He focused on Cisco Ramon. On the impossible warmth of his smile and the strength in his hands, of the far too alluring feel of his skin, of the incredible capacity of his intelligence. He narrowed in on the never ending range of his love, the complete goodness of his heart, the very way he saw the world as no other could. He lingered on how Ramon loved him like no one else ever had or could, how Cisco accepted him and forgave him and chose him time and again... and suddenly there wasn't darkness...

Suddenly he had a body again. Arms, legs, pretty sure everything else, too. And he was in a room. Or what passed for one. No windows, no doors. Just white walls, ceiling, floor. Lit up but without seeming overwhelming. It was massive, could have been the size of a football stadium, for all he knew. And in the center of it all... was Ramon... sitting on the floor, knees pulled up, staring at nothing, face set in a near perfect expression of defeat...

He couldn't help the relieved sigh that escaped his lungs, couldn't stop himself from sprinting toward him. But for some reason, he couldn't get close... like he was running in place. “What the hell?” He said out loud, stopping, breathing, looking around. 

“Not quite.” Coster's voice met his ears. “Though Cisco might agree.” Harry whirled around and backed up instantly, Coster was that close to him. The Asian man smiled.

“I'm impressed.” He said, letting his gaze roam over Harry, “Didn't think you'd find a way to get here. I suppose I should have added the sha into the equation, hm?”

“Let him go.” Harry demanded, not caring to banter. Not now. He was so close, too close, dammit!

“Oh, I will. I told him I would.” He stepped closer to Harry, meeting him eye to eye. “But since you're here, might as well have a little fun first...”

And with a snap of his fingers, everything changed...

* * *

_'Before it gets better, the darkness gets bigger. The person you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger...'_

**Author's Note:**

> (To Be Continued...)


End file.
